


Clever Fingers

by Pleasedial123



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Bilbo Baggins, BAMF Nori, Dorks in Love, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Flirting, Healthy Relationships, Hobbit Culture & Customs, Rule 63, So much flirting, The Whole Company - Freeform, Thief Nori, fem!Bilbo, sneaking around the judgmental dwarves, they just don't realize it yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:20:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25711978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pleasedial123/pseuds/Pleasedial123
Summary: Hobbits are creatures of comfort;  good food, a warm hearth, good company. And while the Adventure may be missing some of these, good company can always be found. And Bilbo soon finds that Nori is quite good company, in and out of bed.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Nori
Comments: 31
Kudos: 532





	1. Tumble

Bilbo watched him rise, stretching in a way that made his satisfaction apparent, a smile idly on his lips. She rolled her own shoulders as she heard his pop. He went for their things and pulled a cloth from his clothes, wetting it with his canteen. He came to her first, dipped his hand between her thighs to clean her of his seed and her pleasure. She spread her legs easily, watching him as he kept up that crooked smile. His eyes darted to hers, mock coyly as he pulled back. 

“Would the Lady like anything else of this humble servant?” he asked, voice low and fake modest. 

“Perhaps my canteen,” she sniffed, mock demanding.

He obeyed despite the joking and she took it, sipping as she sat up. He stretched again when they were both clean and then started to dress under her eyes, gathering his shirt from the pile and tugging it over those rather nice broad shoulders. She enjoyed seeing his clothes get pulled on as much as getting pulled off. The fact he made a show of it, shimmied and teased as he shot her little mischievous grins over his shoulder only made it better. 

“You’d better get dressed too, before the rest of the troop decide to see where we’ve scurried off too,” he said as he belted his coat.

Bilbo groaned and wanted to protest, want to roll around on the grass patch like an upset child.

“It’s so nice to get a few moments though,” she sighed.

“Not that I don’t agree but if they catch us naked together, we’ll probably get a lot less moments together.”

Bilbo blinked.

“You think they would stop us?” she asked, confused.

He snorted.

“Of course they would.”

“But why?” she asked flabbergasted.

Yes, maybe they should be using this time to rest instead of taking a tumble together, but why would they be stopped? He peered at her a moment and then sat down and pulled his pipe out as she slowly started to pull her clothes on. He watched her dress just as eagerly as he’d watched her undress. 

“Why, an unmarried pretty lass getting seduced into the criminal’s bed; first they’ll think I’ve tricked you somehow, and then they’ll start yelling about propriety.”

She stared blankly at him as she paused in the act of pulling her trousers on. 

“What?” she asked, just as baffled, “What propriety is there being broken? We are both adults and both consenting.”

“Ah, Hobbits,” he said almost wistfully as he packed his pipe, “Such carefree folk, even for all your stuffy manners you’re freer in certain regards than us rowdy dwarves.”

“Are…are you like the men,” Bilbo asked still confused, “Where women are not supposed to lie with men until marriage?”

“Sort of,” he said searching his pockets for a match, “Its less waiting for marriage and more that there are proper courting procedures that should be observed. Not to say many don’t have a tumble or two without any strings attached, but generally that’s done in your own circle.”

“Your own circle?” she asked as she finished tugging her clothes on. 

She sat beside him and dug her own pipe out as he continued looking for a light. 

“It will come down to this; you’re too good for me,” he said.

She packed her own pipe as he gave up looking for a light and simply clenched his pipe in his teeth, watching her. 

“Too good for you?” she asked, amused. 

She thought she might realize where he was going with this. People outside the Shire always seemed to have a hierarchy. Not that some families weren’t seen as more respectable in the Shire, but that would never affect who they took to bed or marriage; it effected things like where you sat at the Party Table and who you went to for help or who could be trusted to solve an argument. 

“I’m but a lowly criminal with no mastered craft and no way to promise you even courting gifts. You’re a beautiful lass with a respectable family, a landowner, and at least some old money,” he shrugged.

She struck her own light and lit her pipe before holding the match to him. He lit his as well and in the silence they each puffed idly for a moment. 

“But I’m not looking for courting,” she finally said, “And what does money have to do with it? Money has nothing to do with love or sex.”

“Ah, to the rest, because of my history they will think it’s your money I’m after.”

“My money that’s all tucked back in the Shire?’ she asked, still amused, “While we’re on a quest for all the gold in Erebor? Where we might yet die in dragon fire?”

“I’m just saying,” he smiled, “They’ll think I’m being nefarious, and you’re being taken as a mark.”

“Dwarves,” she shook her head ruefully, “Why must everything be so troublesome with you folk? Why can’t a tumble in the hay just be a tumble in the hay. Would they think it the same if I lay with any other member of the company?”

“Would depend,” he said, “If you took a tumble with any of the Nobles, like Fili or Balin, they’d think it the opposite, with you being the nefarious one after fame or fortune. If it was one of the Urs, you might just be looked at fondly like you were a child playing around, or maybe as someone who was easy. Which is why courtship rules are usually followed to make everything acceptable.”

“Courtship rules even for a tumble?” she asked, “Or do you all get married after?”

“There are rules to quick tumbles too,” he said, “usually just gifts or words to make intentions clear so there is no mistake.”

“Too much politics,” she shook her head, “In the Shire you do as you wish with who wish and there is no trouble unless someone gets hurt. There is gossip of course, you should have heard it when a Bracegirdle girl got caught with a Took Lass, but that’s because they decided to take a tumble in the garden while their families were feuding over a tea-set.”

“Ha!” he barked, “I think you Hobbits have the right of it.”

“Hmm,” she agreed breathing out a smoke ring, “And I hope you know I’m looking at this with a Hobbit eye.”

“Well you are a Hobbit.”

She rested a hand on his leg and gave him a calm look.

“I mean it,” she said, “I am not expecting anything from you except maybe some more fantastic sex if we get the chance.”

He gave her a smile.

“I know.”

“Good,” she nodded.

“Oi. You two!”

They both looked up to find Dwalin eyeing them.

“Thorin says we aren’t to wander. What were you too up to?”

“Having a smoke,” Bilbo was the one to answer cheerfully, “Everyone was getting so loud and I wanted a moment of quiet. He wouldn’t let me wander off on my lonesome.”

Dwalin eyed them suspiciously for a long moment but then retreated back indoors.

“Don’t linger,” he grumbled at them as he left, “Don’t trust the damn weed-eaters not to try an’ separate us.”

Bilbo waited until he was gone before chuckling.

“You lot have no respect for Elves, do you? I suppose its fair considering how little they seem to enjoy our Company. Do you think any of them stumbled upon us while we were distracted?”

“We gave them a show if they did,” he grinned, “and here I thought you respected the elves yourself.”

“Oh I do, but I am enjoying watching the company and the elves all looking at one another side-eyed like you’re fauntlets who are building opposing forts.”

She stood then and brushed her skirt off. He followed her to her feet and watched as she tapped her pipe out on a convenient little rock. Then she reached up and drew him down with a hand on his cheek, giving him a kiss.

“Thanks for the tumble Nori,” she murmured against his lips.

“Any time,” he grinned, looking at her with lidded eyes and a pleased expression.

.--.

It went like this. The Dwarves didn’t know what to think of the Hobbit (or they thought they knew exactly what kind of fussy weak thing she should be) and so they kept her at arms length. Isolationists she would mutter as she was hit with the reminder that Dwarves don’t venture out much. They were like Hobbits in an insular way except they did actually do some travelling as opposed to the Hobbits complete derision at the idea of ever leaving the Shire. So they acted a little distant with her. Or well, most did. 

She noticed that Kili and Fili poked a lot of fun and talked a lot, but she also noticed they were treated rather like children and so she took it to mean they were young. Despite this, for all they talked they said very little of real importance. She didn’t even learn they were related to Thorin despite their chatter until one of the company mentioned their ‘uncle’. Balin was ready to answer any question she posed to him though he tended to hem and haw and not answer if it was something related to Dwarves, and he never approached her with information. Ori was a sweet young lad and seemed rather like he’d like to ask her questions every once in a while, but Dori reminded her of her disapproving Aunt Mirabella who kept a keen eye on her Faunts and so Ori never approached her. Bofur, one of the few others she chatted with regularly was cheerful enough, but as with the others, no real information was passed on. 

They treated her like a guest that they had to entertain, or who could be entertaining, but nothing else. 

By the end of the second week Bilbo threw in the metaphorical towel and accepted the fact that while a few of the company were friendly enough, none of them wanted much to do with her. Ironically enough, it was the day after this realization and grudging acceptance that she noticed Nori’s lingering gaze. 

Bilbo, with not much to occupy her time in the saddle besides what little friendly chatter she got, had taken to simply sightseeing. She’d watched the familiar shire roll away and the slightly familiar Bree Lands leave them. She gazed at the wilderness and marvelled at the wildness to it, far too used to the tamed Shire. But she also gazed at the dwarves, mostly in curiosity as she tried to figure them out. They were as strange as these new lands to her and she liked to observe them since they offered her no words. 

And yes, she would admit, she had turned an admiring eye to things like Dwalin’s thick muscled arms, or Thorin’s appealing nose, or Fili’s golden locks. She’d let her eyes linger on Bofur’s roguish friendly smile and even on Balin’s deft fingers. She was a woman grown after all and she knew how to appreciate beauty, even unconventional beauty by Hobbit measures. Hobbits were creatures of pleasure, of warm hearth and good food and friendly faces. They were creatures of comfort and this extended to comfort in the bed. Maybe it was because they had resources a plenty and peace abound but they had found themselves safe enough that their culture was situated around pleasure. It was nearly an artform for many, which is why a soft round hobbit was considered attractive, why gardens were an unofficial contest with neighbors, why family recipes were guarded and traded like prized jewels, and why those who were particularly talented in the bedroom arts were sought after and showered with flirtations. 

Bilbo had never been one of those that had rumors tossed about or lusty sighs sent after. She’d had her fair share of partners, and they never left unsatisfied, but she was not one of the great tales. But she was confident enough, and pretty enough she’d never been wanting for a bedmate. And now she wondered if it was Hobbits concentration on pleasures and comforts that made it rather easy to turn her eyes to unfamiliar dwarves and find something she might enjoy in them even if the intellectual company seemed to be wanting. 

So of course, when Nori started looking at her, unabashed in his gaze, she looked back. Hobbits were well learned in flirtations and learned very young to accept disinterest or a ‘no’. But they also learned there was no shame in turning a gaze back at the sender and saying ‘yes’ for no other reason than you wanted to. And Nori’s gaze very much said he was rather interested. 

It started rather calm, rather slow for a Hobbit but she enjoyed the game anyways. Nori didn’t so much exchange words with her, nor did he stoop to following her like a puppy. Instead he sent her flirty winks and lidded welcoming looks over the shoulders of his companions. He somehow ended up in her line of vision very frequently and always wore a soft smirk, a teasing glint of teeth. She sent her fair share of looks back when no attention was on them. She gave him a smouldering look as she handed him his dinner or a quick lick of her lips when his gaze wandered across her as he talked to his brother. 

And it wasn’t just smiling and looks. When his eyes turned to her she made sure to lean forward just so and tug at her collar as if sweltering to tease him with a glance at her cleavage. She rucked up her trousers as if checking her heels for mud to flash him her legs. One bold day she licked her spoon rather provocatively while everyone was eating dinner. 

He returned the favor giving a toss of his hair just so to make it glint like flame in the sunlight. He flexed his arms when he lifted things, carefully turning to show her the expanse of his muscle from whatever angle was best. On a day when everyone had jumped in a river to scrub off he was bold enough to return to camp with his shirt dangling from his arm, telling his befuddled younger brother he was letting the shirt dry out before he tugged it on. Bilbo unabashedly stared at the expansion of chest, fanning herself when she was sure no one but he would see her. 

It was loads of fun and rather distracted her from her anger-disappointment at everyone else keeping her at arm’s length. 

And then Trolls happened, and Radagast, and Orcs, and then beautiful shining Rivendell. And Nori slipped out in the dark after her after a few blazing looks. She was the one to tug him down to the earth as he kissed his way down her throat, hands tangling in her coat. 

It was only after their little romp and consequent talk did she remember that not once had they actually exchanged any words before their tumble. 

.--.

Nori had quick fingers Bilbo realized. Their little tumble in Rivendell had awakened something more then quick looks and posturing and now Nori was closer than ever. It was still rather nonchalant, like it was quite by coincidence every time they ended up near one another. But every time they did there were Nori’s quick fingers. He dragged them across her wrist, her hand her elbow, gone as quick as they came leaving trails of fire on her skin. And then one day there was a pinch. Bilbo nearly yelped but managed to bite down on the sound at the last minute as Nori gave her a practically devious grin and sauntered off like he hadn’t just pinched her ass. 

“Something wrong Lass?” Bofur asked raising a brow as he looked over at her.

Her face must be pink she thought as she let out a cough.

“No, nothing,” she said a tad too quick.

Bofur raised a brow at her but didn’t turn suspicious eyes towards Nori who grinned at her over his shoulder.

“Nothing at all,” she repeated more steadily promising retribution. 

.--.

It took three days to reach the mountains and Nori and Bilbo played a quick dangerous game of ‘don’t let anyone else onto the fact they were flirting like tweens’. They both got rather daring after the pinch and more than one dwarf nearly stumbled upon them. They were on foot now, walking winding paths through the woods, and while they stayed decently close together, there were moments where enough distance stretched between them, enough of a bend in the trees that if someone fell back a bit or gained a bit of traction, they could have a brief moment of privacy. They couldn’t risk falling back too often, but Bombur (and his slow pace) was a boon because he held up those behind him whenever he was in the middle of the pack. 

When someone fell back far enough, Nori somehow positioned himself so that he either had the excuse to fall back or speed up to find his brother’s or Bofur. It was always a path that crossed Bilbo’s place in the line. This usually meant a hand wandering where it shouldn’t, smoothing across her bottom of darting across her chest. She got he own share of feels, letting her hand graze muscled arms or across his own bum. 

One exceptionally audacious day, when there was a sharp bend in the road and they risked falling back together, Nori grasped her bum in both hands, hiked her in close, and dove in for a sharp ravenous kiss. She wrapped her hands around his neck, reeled him in and met him in an almost violent open-mouthed kiss, feeling his hands surge under her and his breath mingle with her own. 

“Fuck,” Nori gasped into her mouth, desperate and panting.

“No time for that I’m afraid,” Bilbo teased.

“Oi, are you two falling behind?”

By the time Bofur’s head popped back around the corner Bilbo was leaned over as if looking at something on the ground and Nori was standing with his arms crossed and looking long-suffering.

“Sorry,” Bilbo said, a flush on her cheeks, “thought I saw rather good herb we could have mixed into the stew.”

Nori gave Bofur a look that said he was holding up the rear while their silly Hobbit dithered. 

“Well come on or you’ll get left behind,” Bofur said, unsuspecting. 

Bilbo gave Nori a rather heated glance but followed their hat-wearing friend all the same.

.--.

And then the Stone Giants happened. And the Goblins. And the thing down in the Cave that wanted to eat her. And to make a terrible time even worse, then the Pale orc happened, and Bilbo was leaping through flame to try and save the life of Thorin Oakenshield. By the time the Eagles dropped them off on the Carrock, Nori didn’t even try to hide the fact his eyes weren’t straying from her at all. Not that anyone noticed with all the commotion.

.--.

“Please,” Bilbo whined, voice high and needy.

Nori grunted and rocked against her, fingers stoking at her pearl. Her fingers caught grass, dirt, as she tried to rock back into him. The hand at her trousers was fumbling, losing dexterity with every moan she gave When he finally popped the fastener she shimmied as much as he allowed until her pants were mostly off, hanging from one foot as he desperately undid his own belt. He didn’t even take the time to shove his pants down, one hand still working at her entrance and driving her mad as he caressed her pearl. 

By the time he pushed into her she was begging and wet. Their gasps echoed as he pushed in before they each gave a heartfelt groan. He trembled against her, giving a careful quick thrust. She tried to push back but he planted a hand on her spine, one hands still on her pearl even as he went every so carefully, pinning her to the grass. 

“Nori,” she gasped, arching her back, “Please, faster.”

He buried his face in her shoulder, teeth dragging across her sun-golden skin. His pace was torturously slow, finger drawing her to her peak even as she whined and begged. He trembled with the urge to go quicker. Only when she cried out, peaking on his cock did he give a low gasping groan. Then, as she trembled around him in the aftershocks of her orgasm, he moved his hands to grasp her hips firmly. This time his pace was not slow as he slammed into her hard and fast. She rocked with the blows, a low guttural moan knocked out of her. 

It did not take him long to find release in her and he panted into her skin, mouth on her spine as they both trembled. Slowly he pulled out and off until he was laying in the grass at her side. 

There was a moment of quiet, not silence because their panting was audible, as was the sound of the wind in the trees and the birds in the air. But there was a peaceful sort of quiet as the sweat dried on their skin as their trembling died off. Nori had a hand caressing her flank and she reached out to run hers through his sweat streaked hair. 

He murmured something as she scooted closer to him, but it was either too low or in a tongue she didn’t know because she did not understand what it was he said. Instead she curled close, pressed her nose to his shoulder. His hand stroked her side, rough calloused fingers against soft skin.

“I thought you had died,” Nori whispered into her mouth when she reached up to kiss him, “I thought the Goblins had thrown you down to your death. And then I thought the Pale orc would impale you.”

“Do not speak of what could-have-beens,” Bilbo told him, “Be happy instead that we are alive.”

“Shall I show you how happy I am?” he asked leaning over to kiss her again.

She liked his kisses. His tongue and lips were as deft as his fingers and she lost her breath to him more than once.

“I thought you just had,” she teased.

“Oh that was only the first bit,” he grinned, “No one should be looking for us just yet.”

She looked at him bathed in the midday sun, his freckles stark even with the tan he was getting. They were at the edges of Beorn’s yard, hidden in a dip of trees and thrushes, a little creek bubbling merrily at their back. He looked beautiful like this, happy and tired with a grin on his lips and his eyes and hair glinting in the midday sun.

“Show me then,” she said coyly, “And I shall in turn show you.”

This time she climbed atop him, slipping into his lap and tossing her hair, giving him a coquettish look. She made him beg this time and he did not disappoint, sweet nothings spilling from his lips as she showed him how much she enjoyed both of them being alive to have this.

The days they sent in Beorn’s lands, slipping off to tumble in the grass and sneaking kisses behind the apple tree, was wonderful. Bilbo showed Nori she could use her tongue for more than just sharp words and Nori in return spent an afternoon leaving little marks all up her skin as he shuddered under his clever fingers. Sometimes they simply sat and smoked in a hidden corner, laughing as they spied on the other dwarves and whispered stories.

Everyday made her smile and so Bilbo counted them all as wonderful.

.--.

Mirkwood was…grim. The gloom and doom and shadows hung thick everywhere and the party crowded together tight on the narrow path. Every step seemed to drag the dark closer and Bilbo lost all the smiles and cheer she had gained from her warm days at Beorn’s. She started to dream of sunshine and flowers and careful hot hands, and then the dreams dimmed and darkened and she could not even find peace during rest.

And then Bombur sleeping eternally. And then the spiders. And then the elves.

.--.


	2. All That Glitters

It took Bilbo nearly a week of wandering elven halls before she found her first dwarf. It was Bofur. She greeted him with relief even as she hid a few guilty thoughts on who’d she rather have found. It only took a few quick moments after that to discover the rest of the dwarves were nearby, just far enough from one another not to be able to communicate, but not so far she was crossing the whole elven kingdom.

Except for Thorin.

“He must be here,” Kili said stubbornly, “We haven’t seen him since the spiders but he must be here.”

“You’ll find him, we trust you,” Fili said next, eyes grimmer than his brother’s.

“Pass along a message for me lass,” Balin told her next.

Nori said nothing of Thorin or any of the other’s, he simply grasped reached through the bars on his door to cup her cheek.

“Ori and Dori are fine,” she told him, because he did not ask but she knew what he needed to hear.

“And you?” he asked lowly.

“I’m fine,” she lied.

She was not fine. Nothing was truly fine. She leaned into his touch, let the heat of his fingers linger on her cheek. And then she went to look for their king.

.--.

Bilbo searched and searched and searched. Up and down and across and around every which hall she could find when she got turned around and around. And every night she could she returned to the others.

“Not yet,” she shook her head to every hopeful look, “I haven’t found him yet. But I will.”

And every night she could she curled up against the bars on Nori’s cell, pressed her forehead to the cool metal. Nori cupped her neck, pushed as close as he could and simply sat with her. It rooted her somehow. These longs days of searching made her dizzy with endless twisting halls.

Or maybe that was the hunger. Or the exhaustion. Either way every time he held her firmly it felt less like she was about to spin away.

“Bilbo,” Nori would say, “How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

Fine. Fine. Fine.

“Bilbo,” he’d say, “Have some of my food. And let me tell you of the time when…”

She tried to refuse the food but he would ignore her and launch into some sort of tale. He’d whisper and murmur about Ori’s first drawing or when Dori found a new tea or when a friend of his had tempted him into this simple little challenge that spiraled out of control. He talked and talked, voice so low she had to press close to hear until she drifted off and away. It was as close to comfortable she got.

And every time he woke her when the guards were coming and the calm peaceful little bubble burst.

“I’m fine,” Bilbo lied.

.--.

“Tell me how you got your pretty little home,” Nori said one evening (or day, she no longer knew) when his story had failed to help her drift off.

“Not little,” she murmured, “Bag-End is one of the largest single-family Smials in Hobbiton.”

“Well how did such a lovely little lass like yourself end up in the largest home in Hobbiton?”

“My father made it,” she told him, “Dug it out himself as a gift for my mother when she agreed to marry him. They planned to fill it with children, but they only had me.”

“You must have been more than enough then,” Nori told her.

She shrugged.

“When they passed I was rather young and some relatives made noise about it going to a different family. If it had perhaps belonged to the Baggins family I might have been shuffled into a smaller home while a larger family took charge of Bag-End. But it belonged to my father before the Baggins and so it was mine to keep. I had…well, I had had thoughts of finding a nice man and having a few children but I just never…”

“Got around to it?” he asked.

“Never got around to it,” she managed a weak smile, “I had my share of bedpartners, but they never lingered and I never felt the urge to invite them into more than my bed. It never seemed important. I had my books and my garden and my home, and when I felt the need I could find company. I did not think I needed anyone else. But…”

“But?” Nori urged her on.

“I suppose maybe I just forgot what it was like to have people in my life, not just my bed,” she admitted, “I hadn’t realized it but after all of this… I think it would be lonely to go back to an empty home.”

He held her hand gently through the bars and she thought of going back to a life of quiet after this. Not that she didn’t want to go back home to her hearth and books and garden, but she realized now how quiet her life had been.

“My situation is not the same, but I think I understand,” Nori told her quietly, “I’ve always had Dori, and then Ori, so I’ve never been truly alone, but I have spent much of my time alone to keep them out of my trouble.”

“Have a lot of it, do you?” she tried to tease, but it just came out tired.

“Yes. Most of my own making,” he told her, “I am not a good dwarf, I’ve done things I am not proud of. I have regrets. But I also would not change much. I did what I must.”

He quieted then. She gripped his hand a little tighter.

“You need not tell me,” she told him, “I do not care what things you have done in the past, I do not care that Dwalin mutters about thieves when he looks at you. What I know of you is enough.”

“Is it?” he asked, tone solemn and almost grim.

“It is,” she told him, pressing her face through the bars to press her lips to the corner of his mouth, “Because I know you as a man who makes me smile. When all the others would exclude me, you made me smile. Even when they treated me cheerfully there was still something that made them keep me at bay until I had proved myself. You were the only one who was not waiting for me to succeed or fail, you simply took me as I came.”

“I did indeed take you,” he leered.

She saw past the bravado and curled her fingers around his.

“They waited, as if who I was was not enough and I had to prove what I was worth to this journey. But you seemed to like me well enough as I was.”

Nori let the bluster fall away.

“I am used to expectations,” he said, “used to people judging me instead of actually looking at me.”

She held his hand through the night, drifting with her face pressed close to his.

.--.

When she finally found Thorin deep in the underground levels of the Elven King’s Palace all she felt bone-deep relief. When she took word of him to the other’s, their cheer buoyed her up for a few days.

And then came the task of springing thirteen dwarves from their secure elf cells spread across an entire palace and then getting them out of Mirkwood.

.--.

“You need to rest,” Nori urged.

“I can’t,” she refuted even as her legs folded beneath her.

“You must,” he said simply, “Sit with me a while.”

He shared his super again and she was long since refusing him. Both their cheeks had hollowed and thinned and she thought of how much longer this could go on. She had managed to sneak some food, managed to sneak it from the kitchens but it was not enough, nor was what they could share. This is why she needed to find a way out.

She watched Nori cut a bit of bread and cheese in half, pressing it between the bars to her and she was about to sink her teeth in when a fact caught up to her.

“Wherever did you hide that?” she gaped at the little knife in his hand.

He winked at her and spun it into the air.

“Elves are not as clever as they think,” he grinned passing it through the bars to her.

She looked over the knife in the dim light and realized it was elven make.

“Did you steal this from your guard, from inside the cell?” she looked at him incredulous.

He winked again and she had the strength for a brief breathless laugh of sheer surprise.

“Such quick clever fingers you have,” she said.

“You love my fingers,” he grinned.

“I do,” she managed a smirk.

When she tried to pass the knife back he refused to take it.

“Keep it. You might need it yet,” he told her.

“Nori, I know how to use a knife less than I know how to use a sword,” she sighed.

“Let me show you how to hold it then, and how to slash with it.”

And so he showed her as much as he could with bars separating them and with exhaustion pressing down on them. It was a good as distraction as any, Bilbo thought as she shifted her grip.

.--.

The barrels were not a joy to ride. Gripping the sides as the current took them, praying to Yavanna that none sprung a leak and drowned one of the dwarves, was how she thought she might die. Keeping her head above the current was almost beyond her and the little strength she had left. Mirkwood had sloughed the last of the fat from her body and she wondered what other Hobbits would take of her skinny form. They’d be right horrified she knew.

By the time they came ashore, Bilbo was shivering and shuddering and half drowned. And then she got blasted sick.

.--.

Nori curled up in the chair next to her bed and shrugged when the others look askance at him.

“You go deal with the Men, I’ll watch the Lass and stay out of trouble.”

This got a few approving nods, especially from those who thought he would always cause trouble like Dwalin and Dori. When no one was left but them he moved from the chair into the bed, curling around her like he could ward her from the world. 

“You’ll catch my cold,” she told him, voice raspy.

“Don’t care,” he simply said as he wrapped her in his arms. 

She curled into his chest, pressed her face against him until she could hear his heartbeat and simply tried to breath.

.--.

Erebor was magnificent. Even Bilbo could admire what skill it took to carve halls and bridges and terraces out of the inside of a mountain. That Dwarves worked towards not just practical but beautiful, made the whole place stunning to look at. And that was without the cavern full of gold and gems. 

But the thought of Lake Town burning took some of the wonder out of Bilbo and turned it to ash in her mouth. So did the skeletons they found lying hidden in corners and rooms, those who had not escaped the Dragon’s siege. And then there was the Gold Sickness. 

Truly, Erebor was beautiful to look at, but to Bilbo it was not much better than Mirkwood. 

She spent a day gazing at the wonders of Erebor, at the high ceilings embedded with crystal and the stairs carved in spires and the statues that stood everywhere. And then she turned to watch the dwarves and despaired. Some were worse off than others; Gloin hadn’t stopped doing calculations on an ancient abacus, Dori was still collecting every fine piece of porcelain he could get his hands on, even sweet Ori was digging with a fervor through the halls for every book and shining pen he could find. Even Dwalin, while he tried to follow Thorin to guard kept getting distracted by gleaming gold. And of course, the line of Durin had a history of Gold Sickness and it showed. Thorin searched for the Arkenstone with a single-minded intensity that frightened Bilbo to be around. His nephews were better, but not by much and they only paid attention to one another, laughing and running about like young boys but draped in finery and gems. 

Every dwarf had it in one way or another and Bilbo was at a loss of what to do. 

She did what she could of course. She secured a sleeping area, she got a camp fire set up (burning crumbling furniture and wood shards from the destroyed buildings that had had it), she even found a water pump that ran after a few minutes of hard pumping and looked and smelled good enough to drink. They were a little short on food because of their loss of the ponies, but more than one dwarf had been carrying their supplies and they had enough for now. She managed to find a few areas where mushrooms were thriving in the more muggy corners. Most of the area where the Dragon had been was hot and dry, but he had managed to keep the entirety of the mountain warm it seemed (and while that heat was seeping away it was still there for now).

Then she had the hard time of trying to coax the dwarves to eat the stew and drink the water and lay in the beds. Some all it took was putting food and water in their hands, in guiding them to the beds. Some like Dwalin and Thorin would not be moved or distracted and she had to press water skins to their lips or food into their mouth. She could do nothing about the rest. 

And Nori…

“Nori,” Bilbo said softly, carefully.

“Hmm, yes?” Nori asked, voice telling her exactly how distracted he was.

“Come to bed,” she beckoned.

“Bed,” he muttered idly, a gold coin flipping across his fingers as he stared out at the cavern filled with gold.

“Come to bed,” she repeated slipping closer. 

She reached up to cup his cheek and ever so slowly he seemed to come to life under her fingers. He turned away from the gold finally.

“Bed,” he repeated. 

He followed her back to the camp where she’d managed to get a few dwarves to collapse on their rolls. Bilbo didn’t even care if any of them were awake to see her pull Nori down into her own and hold him tightly. He held her close as well but she could feel him grasping that gold coin against her back most of the night.

.--.

“What are these?” Bilbo asked Nori quietly as he stared at a small array of beautiful glinting knives.

He looked at her, blinking away some thoughts and then looked back at the knives.

“Throwing knives,” he said idly. 

He looked back over the array of blades, but she looked more closely at the flat little blades he had laid out carefully. 

“Could you…could you show me how to use them?” she asked, trying to grab his attention again.

“Hmm?” Nori said stroking his beard as he looked at a pile of precious metals.

Bilbo gently cupped his cheek and drew his gaze back to her. 

“I said could you teach me how to use them?” she said gentle and careful.

“Yes,” he blinked again, as if trying to blink a fog away, “You did say you were good at conkers didn’t you? If you have aim all you need it to know how to handle them.”

“Could you show me?” she asked patiently. 

And so he did. She got nearly two hours of his time. They found an old wood board and scratched a circle on it. He stood behind her, arranging her grip and showing her how to release them just right to send them spinning. Showed her how to dodge when she threw wrong and the hilt hit the wood instead of the pointy end and they bounced right back at her. She laughed breathless with the joy of it as he teased her for her wild throws. She got two hours of his wandering attention that could be brought back with a hand on his cheek. 

“Let me keep these?” she asked tentatively as they slowed.

“They’re rubbish,” Nori shook his head, “Probably training ones since they’re so blunted and worn.”

She slipped them in her pockets anyways as he started to gaze back at the blades and gold. She sat with him for a bit but it was obvious he was distracted again and she left, slinking off to try and do her rounds to make sure everyone was watered and fed. 

.--.

Bilbo looked at the gold with an idle expression and wondered at it. Yes, it shone quite nicely, yes it was quite nice to look at, but beyond that, why did the dwarves covet it so? She’d heard the noise men and elves made about dwarves being greedy by nature, but the question was why? What did metals and gems hold that drew dwarves to them so? Food and comfort she could understand, because it made a person feel good, but what did these things do for dwarves? Metal and gems were cold and hard for all they looked beautiful. And what could you make with them you could not care out of wood or clay? 

Bilbo shook her head and stood.

“Bilbo.”

She started, jolting out of her thoughts to find Ori at her back. He was watching her quietly, eyes dark. In his hand he held a beautiful box inlaid with gold and emeralds and rubies. 

“Ah, did you need something Ori? Are you thirsty?”

She held out the water skin. Any and every opportunity to get water in the dwarves was needed and she’d taken to carrying full skins around hoping she could get enough in them they didn’t drop. Ori ignored the water to look at her. She looked back, anxious at what had drawn Ori to her and his thoughtful silence. He stepped closer finally and held out the box. When he gave no other prompting but didn’t pull back she finally reached out and took it. She looked at Ori’s indecipherable face and then peeked under the lid.

It was writing supplies. Beautiful stone inlaid pens, different nibs, a quartz ink jar corked and stoppered, and then beautifully pressed white sheaves of paper. Every single item had a small rune in the corner, even every sheet of paper and it looked rather new, not faded at all. She looked at this expensive calligraphy set and knew it was better make than any she had owned in the Shire.

She looked up at Ori, a question on her tongue, and nearly yelped as she found Ori had stepped closer, so close he was nearly looming over her. He had that same indescribable face, something in his gaze that pierced her. She froze like a rabbit as he reached for her, his hand reaching up to brush at her hair, twirling a lock around his gloved fingers. His eyes followed the gold of her hair to the coat she wore tattered about her and for the first time this entire trip, Bilbo realized how much larger and stronger sweet ‘little’ Ori was than her. 

At one point she would never have feared these Dwarves and would not have thought they would do anything to her…but the Gold Sickness had changed them and while Bilbo feared for them, she was also starting to fear them. 

“Ori?” she questioned, voice high and thin. 

He looked back at her face, back into her eyes.

“ **Khazush** ,” he responded, voice heavy with the Khuzdul.

He leaned forward and for one moment Bilbo was absolutely sure he was going to kiss her and she flinched away. Except his hand still had her hair in it and she couldn’t pull back. And then his forehead met hers with a light thunk before he was pulling away and leaving without a glance back. 

She stared after him, bewildered. 

“Bilbo.”

She nearly leapt out of her skin and spun to face Nori, clutching the calligraphy box to her chest in fright. He was looking past her at where Ori had left, something hard on his face.

“Ori trying to slip into your bed now?” he asked, tone light despite his face, “Going to trade me in for a younger man?”

Despite the light tone he did not seem to be joking. But Bilbo had no time for whatever bee was in his bonnet. 

“Nori,” she gasped, relieved, “He just, I mean Ori gave me this and called me something in your language.”

Nori finally looked away from the door his brother had slipped through and down to the calligraphy set. He reached out and rested a finger over the rune carved on everything.

“Ori made this mark,” he said.

“What does it mean?”

He didn’t answer, instead staring at it for a long moment.

“What did he call you?” he finally asked. 

“Ah, Kh-Khazush,” she tried, tongue stumbling over the blocky language. 

Nori stared at the calligraphy kit for a long quiet moment. Then he closed it and stepped closer, hand going for her elbow.

“I want to show you something.”

“Show me something? But what about Ori?” she asked bewildered.

“Ignore him,” Nori said simply, pulling her along. 

She followed him as he led her through the winding halls, around the room of gold and to a small alcove where he pushed a door open. It was a small room, must have been a storeroom at one point. And in the center was… well she wasn’t sure what it was but it looked like a large tattered tapestry had been rolled up like a bed. And surrounding it was neat little piles of treasure. A torch burned merrily on the wall cast a warm glow across the space.

“What?” Bilbo managed as Nori pushed her into the room and shut the door behind them. 

Nori took the calligraphy set and water skins from her and tucked them in the corner, waving her on.

“Here,” he said. 

He handed her a small rolled leather bag that contained a bunch of small flat knives. Throwing knives. And even to her untrained eyes they were of much better quality then the ones they’d practiced on.

“Thank you,” she said. 

“Here,” he repeated replacing the thing in her hands.

This time it was a box of breathtakingly beautiful hair combs, all made in different woods with gold and silver threads making pretty little patterns.

“Here.”

A set of earrings made of what looked like amber.

“Here.”

Every gift was presented to her quickly as if he was looking for approval. Earrings, bracelets, hair combs, candles and candle sticks, a beautiful tea-set she was sure she’d seen in Dori’s pile, and so on and so on. Bilbo sat on the edge of the tapestry and stared at the pile of treasure Nori must have spent days digging out of the hoard. And it was all for her. There was gold and silver and gems in the items, but they all came second and only as decoration. Every single item was something she had mentioned or had in her home or was practical.

She had thought him lost to the Gold sickness, and he had been in a way, but even in the depth of it he had not been hoarding treasure for himself, but for her. 

“Nori,” she said, lost, “Why?”

He shuffled, the only sign of embarrassment she had ever seen from him. Then he kneeled in front of her and kissed her instead of answering. She kissed him back and together they fell onto the tapestry that made a surprisingly comfy bed. 

He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her until she was breathless and wanting, until she forgot all about the mountain and the dragon and Gold sickness, until all she could think of was him. Her fingers tangled in his hair, combing the style and braids out until it was a waterfall of red gold down his shoulders. He teased her curls until she was sure they were more frizz than curl but he seemed to enjoy it, especially when her mouth was on his throat, teeth scraping his skin, her hands on his back. 

While every other tumble in their journey had been just that, all needy and flush and wanton every moment they could get, this felt like more. He’d made her bed, a room, and laid gifts at her feet, surrounded her in them. He kissed her breathless and held her tight but there was no rush, no desperation in his movements and Bilbo came on his cock and fingers, nearly wailing as her pleasure was found. He groaned so low and heartfelt into her skin she shuddered with it, with him, as they came apart together. 

He murmured Khuzdul into her skin, sweet nothings into her mouth as he took her again and again, as they made love in a palace surrounded by treasure. 

“Nori,” Bilbo breathed, “Nori, Nori Nori.”

“ **Lanselê** ,” he groaned into her mouth.

.--.

The whole hand the Arkenstone over to the humans was…not a mistake, she did not regret it, but it was a blunder that she thought she might be forgiven for it.

.--.

“I have been betrayed,” Thorin said, jaw clenched and eyes feral as he looked at her.

Bilbo croaked, fingers scrabbling at the hands clenched around her throat. Her toes scraped at the stone that was barely in reach as she was held over the drop off the rampart, as she was held over her death. No one moved to take her from his grip as Thorin looked at her with murder in his eyes. Gandalf roared up at them but Bilbo could not make out his words past her frantic heartbeat.

And then finally, finally, some of the madness slipped away and she was tossed to the rampart ground and not the rocks so far below. 

“Begone,” Thorin growled, “You are banished from Erebor. Do not return.”

Bilbo coughed harshly, hand pressed to her neck as she felt the bruises already forming. She looked up at Thorin’s back. And then she looked for Nori.

Nori was held firm in place, Ori holding his one wrist as Dori held his other side. Ori’s hand was steady on his face, Nori screaming behind the hand clamped to his mouth, the muffled noise the only sound beyond her own heartbeat as he fought his brother’s hold. But Dori and Ori were stronger than they looked and didn’t even flinch under his flailing. Dori looked befuddled at his brother’s actions but did not let go, did not let Nori join her in her treason. Ori was grim-faced, eyes sad when he looked at Bilbo but he also did not let go of his brother. She flinched away from them, knowing rejection when she saw it. 

For all that Ori seemed to care for her, for all that he seemed to know what Nori and she were, he had chosen to save his brother rather then let him go to her. 

It was Bofur that helped her to her feet, that guided her to the rope to let her down from Erebor’s high gate. There was no chance to grab her things as few as they were. Instead she was pushed out of Erebor with nothing but the clothes on her back, Sting on her waist, and a few knives tucked away. 

She met Nori’s eyes one last time, a slow lingering goodbye, and then she left, her adventure ended, leaving her with less than she had started with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm following a mishmash of movie and book with a little bit more focus on the book cannon. Its been a while since i read it but i'm pretty sure everyone got a little obsessed with the gold in the book (maybe not gold-sickness like in the movie, but still obsessed).
> 
> And Ori might have been willing to approve of Bilbo before she betrayed the king, but treason is a different game all together and he won't let his brother follow her to be exiled from the Dwarven Kingdoms. Also who's to say Thorin wouldn't have him killed; Bilbo is under Gandalf protection and not his subject, so her treason is a grey area considering she's not his people, but Nori joining her would be outright treason that would allow Thorin to execute him?
> 
> Khazush = Sister  
> Lanselê = ???? You will find out if you haven't already looked it all up


	3. The Dark may be Burned Away

He came for her in the night, slipping into the ruins of Dale and the camp of men and elves like the thief that Dwalin always claimed he was. How he found he she did not know but find her he did, curled up with Dain’s children in their shelter. 

Waking to his hand on her face was like waking to the first day of spring, hopeful but still worried for a turn in weather.

“Nori, no,” she breathed, “Your brothers-”

“They are not you Bilbo,” he murmured, “they are not you, **Lanselê**.”

“Nori,” she whispered, wrapping her hand around the one had pressed to his face, “They will declare you a traitor.”

“I was already a criminal in many of their eyes,” he nosed her cheek, breath warm across her skin, “I’d rather be out here with you than with them.”

“Nori,” she said, “I…”

“Let me stay with you, **Lanselê** ,” he smiled, “Let me come home with you.”

“Yes,” she said softly, “Yes. My home is yours. Anywhere I go you are welcome.”

He kissed her, soft and gentle. 

And then he tugged her to her feet, pulled her outside and showed her what he had also grabbed on his way out of the mountain. Thief indeed she thought as she looked at gems of starlight. 

“I had to try and rival your daring,” he told her with a cheeky smile, “You stole the Arkenstone to stop a war, and I stole the Gems of Starlight to try and barter for my brother’s lives. Let that be my last gift to them.”

Thranduil, when presented with the Gems he craved by a no-name dwarf thief, looked utterly flabbergasted and it was all Bilbo could do not to laugh. Bard and Gandalf looked just as surprised. 

“When the armies arrive,” Nori negotiated with the Elf King, “You will help defend the dwarves of Erebor.”

“Thirteen lives for the gems,” Thranduil mused, eyes not straying from the white stones, “That is a fair trade.”

Bilbo kissed him soundly after they had been waved out of the tent, Gandalf’s wide smile and wink following them out. 

“Look at us,” Bilbo said, “We spent a year trying to get here, chased a dragon out, and then gave our share of the treasure to Men and Elves. What terrible thieves we make that we leave with empty pockets at the end.”

“Well, not completely empty pockets,” Nori grinned, a gold coin flipping across his fingers, “Enough to get us back to the Shire at least. And then I shall be relying on your generosity, **Lanselê**. I’ll have you know I only like to be kept in comfort.”

“Comfort, eh?” she teased, “Well you can always count on a Hobbit for that. And I suppose I may have enough tucked away to see us comfortable.”

“You misunderstand. Comfort is wherever you are,” he corrected, quiet and low as he kissed her behind the war tent. 

.--.

Bilbo had fought in skirmishes during their journey, had swung her little sword at Azog the Pale Orc to save Thorin’s life. But she’d never seen anything on the scale of this battle; never wished to see anything like it again. It was chaos and blood and screaming and she hated every moment of it. She nearly lost her head once or twice, literally and figuratively. But Nori was at her back, quick knives in quicker hands and he guided her steadily through the mess. 

Nori had tried to convince her to run away with him before the battle, but it had been half-hearted at best. His brothers were there, their friends were there, and so they could not just slip away in the night. And so they fought, back to back. 

And when they made it to Ravenhill, when they found Thorin facing off against Azog, Bilbo was panting but not done yet. Watching the blade press closer and closer to Thorin’s throat, Bilbo thought of the King she had once considered a friend. 

Hers and Nori’s knives flew quick and true at the exact same moment, both of the same thought. Azog choked and stuttered on a knife in his throat and one in his chest and it was enough of an opening that Thorin rose like a storm and lopped his head off. They did not stay to see if their help was welcome as they slipped off, blades still flashing as they fought to find Ori and Dori.

.--.

They found Dori first, knocked silly from a blow but still roaring as he brought an orc down with his bare hands.

“The Ri family has always been known for their strength,” Nori had told her in the Elven Dungeon as he had whispered tales of Dori the unbeaten champion of arm wrestling in Ered Luin. 

She could see it now, the way Dori was an unmoving block of stone, his grip so tight a goblin squealed. Ori was beside him, a large warhammer that looked familiar enough it must have been Dwalin’s in his hand. Ori wielded the hammer better than even his pens, the thing looking like it weighed as much as feather in his sure grip. The two did not even question their appearance, simply closed in and fought back to back. Ori’s hammer took out an orc gunning for Bilbo and Dori threw a goblin going for Nori. And Nori and Bilbo’s knives took out orcs going for all of them. So they fought and fought and fought. 

Elves found them at one point and rallied around them, closing in to make their group larger and more threatening, slowly pulling them back into the center where their allies fought. Elf arrows saved more than one Ri brother and from Nori’s satisfied smile, he was quite pleased with himself. 

And then at some point the whole thing was over and Bilbo was curled against Nori’s side, Ori boxing her in on the other side and Dori on his left. They were leaning against a very sturdy tent that had healers rushing in and out, elvish and dwarvish, but all Bilbo could do was curl tighter into Nori’s side despite the grime and blood and fall asleep.

.--.

“What are you doing?” she murmured as she awoke.

Fingers paused in her hair. She recognized those finger’s instantly, the familiar feel of them against her scalp.

“Sleep longer, **Lanselê**.”

“I don’t think I can,” she replied face in his lap, “I’ve got this terrible crick in my back.”

“Well, fighting and then falling asleep sitting up can do that,” Nori said with something like amusement and something like weariness. 

His fingers returned to her hair and she hummed lightly as he finished whatever he was doing, which was a braid of course. When his fingers finally left her hair to cup her neck she pushed herself upright. Dori was on his left still, head back and snoring, dead to the world. Ori was on their right, looking eerily similar to his brother with his head back. 

“Ugh,” she groaned, “We stink.”

Nori’s mouth quirked up in a smirk. 

“We do. Shall we take a little gander down to the river?”

“Is it safe?”

“The goblins and orcs fled,” he nodded, “None will be lingering I don’t think, not with the skin-changer still wandering about in the form of a bear.”

She happily agreed. They slipped off to river, found a great deal of people had had a similar idea and then found a nice little curve where they were mostly hidden from prying eyes. Despite no ties or combs in her hair, Nori’s braid held true even when she wiped the grime out of it. The was dwarf braids for you. Such clever fingers he had. They scrubbed and soaked and then made the decision to do the same to their clothes. It was warm enough for their under layer to be enough and so they laid their clothes on some large rocks and laid together in the sun, resting to the sound of others chatting and bathing and washing a distance away. 

“I am so glad you are alive,” Nori told her, kissing her sweetly on the neck.

“As am I,” she returned the sweet kisses.

And so they spent half the day, resting in peace and exchanging nothing more then sweet soft kisses. This was how Balin found them, curled together with braids in their hair. 

“Well,” Balin said, “Well.”

He stared at them a bit longer and Bilbo simply flopped back into the grass from where she’d half risen to greet him.

“Well,” Balin repeated as if he was at a loss of words.

“Are you going to say anything else?” Nori taunted.

“You do know what those braids mean don’t you, bilbo?” Balin asked instead of answering the red-head.

“I understand the gist. I’m not an idiot,” Bilbo said.

“Well,” Balin said again.

There was a moment of solid concentration on his face as he looked at them.

“Some actions make certain sense now,” Balin finally said, “Bilbo, Thorin would like to see you.”

“Would he?” Nori asked rather calmly despite the way his fingers twitched.

“Yes,” Balin said looking to Nori now, “No harm will come to her. He means to apologize.”

“How about to Nori?” Bilbo asked.

“Certain actions,” Balin hummed thoughtfully as he looked at them, stroking his beard, “Yes, Thorin would be willing to see Nori too.”

“No thanks,” Nori said.

“I’ll see him,” Bilbo said, rolling her eyes at Nori. 

They tugged on their still damp clothes and followed Balin back through the camp of men and elves and dwarves to a rather large tent near the centre of the dwarf camp. Balin bowed them on and took his leave. 

“Go in without me,” Nori said, slipping his hand out of hers.

“What? Why?” she asked, “Balin assured us we were welcome.”

“He may be your friend Bilbo, but he is my king,” Nori said simply, “A king may forgive his friends, but not his subjects.”

“I think you doubt yourself and your place,” Bilbo eyed him.

He simply shook his head and would not be argued with. She entered the tent alone.

“Bilbo,” Thorin greeted, voice low and raspy as if he fought to get it out.

He was laying on a cot, bandages swathed around his torso and arms. In the din Bilbo made out two other cots, with Kili and Fili both unconscious.

“Thorin,” she said, “Are they…”

“They live,” Thorin rasped, looking at his nephews, “Thanks to you.”

“Thanks to me?” she squeaked, “But I did not see them in the field!”

“And yet your actions turned the tide of the battle,” Thorin said, “I saw glimpse of you, after the knives. The knife you threw to stop Azog gave me enough time to slay him so that I could make it to my nephews in time. They were losing their battle and if I had fallen they would have followed me.”

“But my throw couldn’t have-”

“I was losing, Bilbo,” Thorin said, eyes shrewd and grim, “I was but one moment away from losing my battle with Azog the Defiler. Your knives killed him almost as surely as my blow.”

“I…” she paused as she tried to accept this, “I was not alone. I only threw the knife that hit his chest. The knife in his throat was not me.”

“You had company?” Thorin asked surprised.

“Yes. Nori was the one to throw the killing blow. He was also the one who taught me how to throw knives. Without him…” she shuddered.

“Nori?” Thorin asked sounding incredulous, “But he ran like a thief in the night!”

“And where do you think he ran to?” she snorted crossing her arms.

“But…I do not understand,” Thorin said looking rather lost, “I did not think you two close?”

Bilbo didn’t answer instead she stepped closer, further into the lamp light so that Thorin may see her closer. Like she thought, his eyes immediately went to her well braided hair. For a moment he stared, and then he paled, fast and hard and slumped into his pillows further.

“You are his One,” Thorin breathed.

“No idea,” Bilbo said tentatively, “But he calls me Lanselê.”

Thorin stared at her.

“That means ‘My Love of all loves’,” the king finally said.

“Well, isn’t that sweet,” Bilbo flushed, pleased.

“I never realized you two were…,” Thorin shook his head.

“None but Ori did, I suspect,” Bilbo said kindly.

“And I nearly threw you from the rampart before him,” Thorin muttered weakly.

“Yes. You did,” she said not unkindly.

“Please, sit, let me apologize properly,” Thorin said.

And so she sat and so he apologized. He talked at length of how sorry he was, of what the madness had made him feel. He named her dwarf-friend, told her she was wiser than any of his company, and all was well between them.

“Please, tell Nori I would apologize to him,” Thorin said when she stood to leave, Oin bustling in to look at their injured king.

“He does not think you should forgive him,” Bilbo said with an expression that told him exactly what she thought of that.

“Then tell him for me. And maybe one day he will be willing to hear it from me,” Thorin said softly.

Nori was waiting for her a distance away, cornered by Dori who was whispering to him father fiercely. Nori saw her nearly instantly and Dori followed his gaze. What came then was a great deal of squawking as Dori spotted her braids.

“Do you not approve of your new Sister?” Nori asked, grinning roguishly as he drew Bilbo in and close.

Dori squawked wordless as he flapped his hands. Bilbo rolled her eyes at Nori and then kissed him, so very happy they were both here to enjoy this moment. Behind them Dori continued squawking.

.--.

“And what is going on here?” Bilbo demanded sharply.

The Hobbits before her all gaped or squeaked, trying to get out of the way as she guided her pony straight up to the wide-open door of Bag-End. An Auctioneer sat behind a small podium, a gavel in hand and a book to record laid out before him. At his feet were her parent’s portraits.

“Auctioning off my things!?” Bilbo asked, voice high with the shock of it, “How dare you!”

“Aw, well, you see, you’ve been declared dead Missus Baggins,” one brave Hobbit said.

“Then my will should have been properly followed!” Bilbo shouted, “And yet here you are auctioning off my family portraits like there are not family who would have them!”

“Ah, you see,” the hobbit stuttered, “That is, well, your Took relatives refused to release the Will because they said you weren’t dead.”

“And so you ignored it? This is highly improper,” she said harshly.

She threw herself from the pony and her sword bounced obviously on her hip, the shield she’d picked up as a knick-knack clanking on her back. She straightened her spine and leveled her best glare at the assembly.

“Get out of smial!” she roared.

What followed was a mass exodus as the Hobbits burst and scattered, legging it away from the armed and obviously quite mad (in both ways the whispers would follow) Ms. Baggins. 

“Drop my spoons this instant Lobelia!” Bilbo hissed, seeing a familiar Hobbit Lady trying to sneak by.

Lobelia sniffed, mouth opening for some caustic remark when she laid eyes on knives being flashed and the hard glint behind Bilbo’s eyes. She practically threw the spoons at Bilbo before she fled. Bilbo glared after her relative and then gathered up her spoons and looked into her smial.

“The trod mud everywhere!” she screeched.

Behind her Nori exploded in laughter, nearly falling off his pony with the force of it. 

“You think it’s funny but you will be helping me clean!” Bilbo shook a fist full of spoons at him.

He just laughed harder, even when she threw a broom at his head. 

It really didn’t take long to set the smial right. They’d apparently gotten there just in time and only a few small things were missing. Once the places was clean enough and the ponies released into the garden for the night, and the door shut behind them did Bilbo sag into Nori’s hold.

“I suppose it was too much to ask to return to a calm clean home,” she sighed into his shirt. 

“Our luck is both better and worse than that,” Nori agreed nosing her braid.

Bilbo inhaled the scent of horse and woods and Nori that clung to the shirt her face was buried in. 

“Should we worry about lunch?” Bilbo hummed.

“Baths first, I think. And then I’m going to insist you take me to be bed, Miss Baggins,” Nori said.

“How scandalous,” Bilbo chuckled, “You know the rumor of this is going to be all over the Shire by tomorrow. The once respectable Miss Baggins returning for a year-long adventure with weapons of all things, and a dwarf! More than one hobbit saw you enter my smial with me and tongues are going to be a wagging.”

“I thought you Hobbits didn’t care about a tumble in the hay?” he smirked. 

“Oh that’s not the issue, the issue is you’re not a proper Hobbit but a _dwarf_ ,” she said.

“Well,” he hummed, “You’ll just have to make an honest dwarf, or rather hobbit of me then.”

She paused.

“Did you just ask me to marry you?” she said in astonishment. 

“Bilbo, **Lanselê** , we’re already married,” he said lifting a hand to stroke her braid.

“I…I..” she floundered, “I realized it laid some claim, but marriage!? Nori, did you steal my hand in marriage without even telling me?!”

He gave her a devious grin and then kissed her before she could yell anymore. 

“I hope there are no complaints, **Lanselê** ,” Nori murmured into her mouth, “Because I don’t plan to let you get away.”

“We Hobbits hold onto our comforts and pleasures quite tightly,” she told him, “So don’t think I will be letting go of _you_ anytime soon.”

“Good,” he said kissing the corner of her mouth, “Look at us, a pair of excellent thieves. So quick and clever we stole each other’s hearts.”

“Now that will be a tale to tell. Maybe we can get Ori to write it down when we return to Erebor for the winter,” she smiled. 

“He’s already started,” Nori told her, “Now, bath. Because I want to see your bed and I’m pretty sure you don’t want us rolling around in it stinking of travel.”

“Bath,” she agreed.

And after the nice bath and after they had both gotten very familiar with her bed, they lay curled together, dappled in afternoon sunlight and the soft quiet of a warm home around them. She ran her fingers through the waterfall hair the color of a warm hearth and kissed him lazily. He returned the soft sweet kissed, hands on her neck as if to hold her as close as possible. She felt warm and happy here, just like this, just with him. There was Orcs and Dragons and Gold Sickness behind them and nothing but comfort ahead of them.

“I love you,” she told him quite seriously.

“I love you too, **Lanselê** ,” he said.

And everything was just perfect.


End file.
